Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. " "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. “Oh, Lucy. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. A dovecoloured kincob gown, embroidered with large trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of a very neat ankle, and a very small foot. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters.
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